


We Met at a Funeral

by the_great_escape1998



Series: Mystrade [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Sherlock's Death, Sherlock's Funeral, Talking, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 01:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1410058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_great_escape1998/pseuds/the_great_escape1998
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Greg and Mycroft got together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Met at a Funeral

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if any of this is out of character. Also, no beta so expect mistakes and also some fluff.

The day probably should have been weepy, the rain dripping slowly over the faces of black clad mourners, but it wasn’t, it was a beautiful, pristine, blue sky, sunny day. The small collection of people gathered there for Sherlock’s funeral had on characteristic red splotched or teary eyes. The ‘I just cried’ face or the ‘I am crying’ face. That is everyone except for two men standing in the corner like soldiers, all straight faces and stoic expressions. They didn’t really know each other, only of each other, one obviously knowing more than the other. “Hi I’m Greg” he paused and took a shuddered breath. The whole stoic thing was obviously a facade. “Lestrade” he finished.  
“Mycroft Holmes” his voice did not waver, just kept looking straight at John who was as close to lying in the fetal position as one could sitting in a fold up plastic chair.

The wake was nice, held in a bland private room at a bland restaurant because no one could go into Baker Street. People pretended to be happy and toast to his life, talk about good things, joke about bad things but really there was a heavy humid feeling to the air. Mycroft and Greg were there again nursing matching scotches, they only really held them to have something to hold not because they were actually planning on drinking.

Then they started talking, about anything, just to talk and they kept talking all the way to Mycroft’s house where they didn’t stop talking and a completely sober Mycroft told Greg that Sherlock was alive. He did it because he had to tell someone and Greg seemed trustworthy, sentiment-less Mycroft needed someone to talk to, he would never admit that.They started to see each other often, they both needed to talk or just had nowhere to go. Mycroft didn’t have friends and Greg’s only other friend was a very messed up John who didn’t answer his phone. So they would sit together, each others only friends. They didn’t admit what was happening and most of their conversation was as bland as the wake restaurant.

The evening that changed, started with Greg coming over with the same face he had on at the funeral, the ‘I am trying really freaking hard to be brave face’.Mycroft knew that face “Are you okay Gregory?” Greg just stared straight ahead his face not changing Mycroft moved a little closer and Greg just started ranting. “ We haven't been together for a year, my wife and I, yet she suddenly wants all these things from me, like she is using the divorce to get what was never even rightfully hers. John, the person I could always go to, is a wreck and I know how to make him feel better, but can’t. I know he would get hurt, really badly but I can not for the life of me rationalize this.” They stood there and looked at each other for a heated moment. “Can I have a hug?” Greg asked, it was a moment of weakness and he knew it was wrong the moment he said it but he didn’t take it back. Mycroft nodded and they both took a moment to look more manly in their own ways. Greg puffed up his chest a bit and Mycroft straightened his already perfect tie. 

They hugged, one of those hugs that looks like it should have come after a solid handshake They held it for a little too long and after a moment of awkwardness relaxed into each other, Greg’s head falling to Mycroft’s shoulder. When they let go they straightened themselves up a bit, they gave each other a knowing look that said ‘this will never leave the confines of this room’ and went back to their usual positions, Mycroft in his leather armchair, Greg on the couch.  
Greg started coming in ranting every once in awhile, mostly as his divorce progressed, he didn’t have to ask for his manly, platonic hug anymore, it just sort of happened. The hug began to evolve at some point, they don’t really know when. Mycroft began to pour his emotions into it. The ones he didn’t tell anyone and soon they were holding each other on the couch, still platonic, still sitting straight up. 

Greg’s divorce was finalized 6 months after the first hugging incident. He came into Mycroft’s house finally happy. After being let in, he did a happy dance in the middle of the living room while Mycroft watched, his face a combination of confusion and awe. Greg threw himself onto his usual couch and stretched out. “God, I feel weightless, this is fucking amazing. I’m not with that cheating bitch anymore and I barely had to give anything.” He punched the air a few times with great vigor. Mycroft’s face didn’t change. “What does that face mean?” They were both silent for a moment. “I’m happy for you Gregory.” It all sounded forced, like he was trying to make himself sound neutral but failing miserably. Then something came over Greg, he got up in one go, took two steps to Mycroft and kissed him, without hesitation. It was chaste and their lips didn’t move but when Greg pulled away he didn’t take a moment to second guess himself, instead he took a moment to grab Mycroft’s chin and kiss him deeper. By some magical force, Mcroft kissed back. Soon they were both standing and kissing because that was more comfortable and their arms were around each other like those countless hugs.

They did this for as long as they could but after a while they both broke for air. They panted together with their foreheads touching, their eyes together. Greg spoke  
first, “wow,” Mycroft made some kind of noise that signified agreement. “How did that happen?” Mycroft had gain enough breath to talk now. “I believe that you kissed me.”  
“Did you like it?”  
“Yes, quite a bit.”  
“You just looked so lost it felt like the right thing to do.” Greg was answering his own earlier question. 

They found themselves several hours later, naked on the couch and deliriously happy. “I didn’t know you had a sexual interest in men.” Mycroft’s head was on Greg’s chest. “Well now you know.” Greg kissed the top of his head and they went back to snogging.


End file.
